The early windfall under the tree,
And see the red fruit shine,
I cannot think your thoughts will be
Much different from mine.
Should at that moment the full moon
Step forth upon the hill,
And memories hard to bear,
By moonlight harder still,
Form in the shadows of the trees, ---
Things that you could not spare
And live, or so you thought, yet these
Are gone, and you still there,
A man no longer what he was,
Nor yet the thing he'd planned,
The chilly apple from the grass
Warmed by your living hand ---
I think you will have need of tears;
I think they will not flow;
Suppposing in ten thousand years
Men ache, as they do now.